The Northward Contrail

The long-lasting Christmas

Christmas was yesterday. It's one of a few times in my life it's been on a Sunday. For the most part, they haven't been that memorable, especially the older I get. Once you get past a certain age, Christmas just isn't what it once was; although you still get some enjoyment from it, you don't have the wide-eyed wonder for it you once had.

There are a few Christmases from childhood I remember vividly. But for pure enjoyment, I believe my tenth Christmas is the one I remember with the most satisfaction. Every year, my brother and I would get a spending limit. If we didn't exceed that, we were okay by Santa Claus. In previous years, I'd look through the Sears catalog (remember Wish Book?) and find lots of things I thought were neat.

But that year, I wanted a computer. Maybe in my heart of hearts, I wanted one of these (as I used at school) or one of these (which I always thought looked way cool), but they were far beyond what my parents were willing to spend. I'd made a futile effort earlier in the year to save up for one of these, but gave up when I actually got to try one and found how unsatisfying it was. But in late 1983, K-Mart was running an unbelievable sale on these: $88 each. One of my teachers swore by his brand-new C-64 (whose introduction had sparked the blowout prices on the VIC-20), so I knew Commodore made a good machine. I therefore put that on my wish list for Santa. Also on the list were several old-time radio cassettes from a mail-order catalog. I forget what else I asked for that year, but those in particular stand out. Just before I went to bed that night, my father told me to bring my little black-and-white Zenith up to the den so Santa could work on it during the night.

Now this was the next-to-last Christmas before all our gifts were wrapped and we'd have to wait for our parents to wake up. This was back when we'd wake up on Christmas morning, go to the den, and find the things for which you'd asked had magically appeared around the tree during the night. When you're a kid, "magical" is the only thing to describe that. And so it was that morning when I awoke to find on the coffee table my little Zenith attached to a brand-new VIC-20. It was all mine, all ready to go, and even had a few game cartridges and paddle controllers too. Also under the tree was a cassette case containing all the old-time radio cassettes for which I'd asked. Oh, it was a glorious day.

I've had many Christmases in my life, but I can't think of many whose bounties brought such long-term satisfaction. For years to come, I'd spend hour after hour hunched over the keyboard of that VIC-20, playing games or coding BASIC programs into its tiny memory, only to be wiped when I turned the thing off. I didn't care, though. I had a computer and I was happy as could be. Often I'd while away the hours of coding listening to one of those cassettes, teaching myself BASIC while happily living in yesteryear. It was great.

I've gone through many computers since then, but none of them have the place in my heart that little Commodore does. I still have that VIC-20, still in its original box, with all the cables and the switch box for the back of the television, the power supply, everything. It's been through a lot, but the last time I fired it up, it still works. And I still have all of those cassettes, too. They all are reminders of what, for me, was probably the most satisfying Christmas morning I can remember.

This is no drill

Seventy years ago today Pearl Harbor was attacked and the United States became a nation at war. There's no shortage of commemorations and remembrances of that event today, and as much as I'm interested in the history (having bought a paperback copy of Day of Infamy as a teenager and pretty much wearing it out), I wanted to give some attention to how it was covered by broadcast media that day.

There are several collections from radio out there, but I found myself most fascinated by this one, as well as this one. I'd also direct you to Bob Trout's firsthand recollections of that day, available here. (The version of the CBS bulletin you hear most often - with John Charles Daly saying "we interrupt this program" - isn't the way it really went that day. Quite a story behind that, involving a couple heroes of mine you ordinarily wouldn't associate with that kind of fudging, but I'll let you discover that little gem on your own.)

Believe it or not, there was effort made by fledgling television to provide news about the attack. I'll direct you to this brief yet fascinating article.

Above all, take a moment today to remember.

The original fourth television network

While I'm at the store today getting a new supply of words for future posts, spend your time exploring the world of the oft-forgotten DuMont television network through this engrossing site. Guaranteed, you'll learn something new.

Another passing

He taught us then not only how to open our mouths but how to insert bright pebbles beneath our tongues so that eventually we might fire forth a sentence not only worth listening to but thinking about.
                                                                                                                -- Ray Bradbury

Awoke yesterday morning to learn Norman Corwin passed away Tuesday at the age of 101.  I can't say much that hasn't already been said, except that he was one of my heroes.  He was a legendary radio dramatist, director, author, screenwriter...you name it.  His style inspired so many of my own embarrassing yet heartfelt attempts at lyrical prose, and while my annual posting from "On a Note of Triumph" is meant as a sincere prayer, it's also meant as a tribute to Corwin's landmark broadcast. 

Then again, there were so many landmark broadcasts he created -- not only "On a Note of Triumph," but "We Hold These Truths" and "Fourteen August," and so many more.  If you've never listened to any of them, please seek them out.  They're powerful; they're elegant; they're moving.

I had selfishly hoped Corwin would live forever.  I felt a world with him in it, as one of the last living links to what broadcasting was before it turned into something awful and unlistenable, was somehow a little bit better.  I wanted to shake his hand.

I shall miss him. 

Postmark

Another auction find from a few years ago: this clipped mailing piece (presumably cut from an envelope?) with metered postage, from late May 1941.  Fascinating on several levels, especially the glimpse at the typography and iconography of the Eyeball Network before it became the Eyeball Network.  Even then, as you can see, they put particular emphasis on cool, sleek, modern design.

Here's a closer look:

Wow, did that lettering like that you see in that postmark give me the creeps when I was a wee one.  Funny what a lack of serifs will do to make an alphabet look scary, no?  But that's the influence of William Lescaze for you (and here's the link to download an article on his work for CBS).

A couple of anniversaries

Two anniversaries to remember today.

The most famous one first: It's hard to believe it's been 42 years, but that's how long it's been since humans first landed on the Moon.  Much has been said and written about Moon Day, but for me the most compelling way to experience what the moment must have been like is to watch what it was like, as it happened.  Go here, get lost in it, let yourself live in the moment for a little bit, and maybe you'll understand why Uncle Walter was speechless. 

But there's another spaceflight anniversary that's often overlooked because it's lost in the giant shadows of Alan Shepard's pioneering flight and John Glenn's historic orbital mission.  It was 50 years ago tomorrow that Gus Grissom flew Liberty Bell 7 on America's second manned space flight.  Grissom's flight is remembered, if at all, because the spacecraft sank after landing (and a certain 1983 motion picture depicted him unflatteringly and unjustly because of what happened).  But in 1999 Liberty Bell was found in surprisingly good condition and brought up from the depths to be preserved. 

Because Grissom's flight is no less important than Shepard's or Glenn's, and since he and Liberty Bell 7 deserve to be remembered too, here's a chance for you to experience what it was like to watch on television as it happened.  Go here and work your way through the seven parts.  It's very crude coverage, but that's how it was back then...and it provides a basis for comparison with how Apollo 11 was covered.  How far both NASA and the networks came in the space of eight years.

Prophecy

A couple weeks ago I came into possession of a first edition of The Public Arts by Gilbert Seldes.  It's an interesting dissection of the broadcasting arts circa mid-1950s, with Seldes casting his critic's eye on the medium, the personalities of the moment (Gleason, Berle, Benny, etc.), and the different types of programs then found on television.  Television was a far, far different world then, and this book is a time capsule of sorts.  I've only read a little bit of it, but it's hard to put down (and, besides, you have to love any book that's -- no joke -- dedicated to both Jimmy Durante and Edward R. Murrow).

It was while reading the chapter on Murrow that I came across the following passage -- that, much like Paddy Chayefsky's Network, is in retrospect a prophecy:

It could be said, then, that as he approached his work in television, Murrow accepted the basic principles of news-broadcasting: fairness and accuracy in presentation of the news and no use of the broadcaster's position to further his private ends.  He probably accepted Elmer Davis's thesis that, even if the reporter got all the facts, the dimension of meaning needed to be added and this meaning often required the presentation of other related facts.  As Davis had pointed out, neither the commentator nor his sponsor should be allowed to give his full judgment on meanings and motives.  But Murrow was troubled by something.  He was still a member of the CBS Board of Directors and powerful in its decisions on public policy, and he circulated to the CBS executives a memorandum that made his misgiving--his downright fear--explicit.  He had perhaps noted that the singing star of a radio giveaway show had been displaced by another when the program went to television--the radio star had the better voice, but by far the ampler figure.  He wondered whether an attractive dolt, beginning as a speaker of words written for him by a network news department, might not gain an audience, insist on becoming a "personality," and, step by step, use his position and the news to become a demagogue.  Even if the final step did not occur, the debasing of the news was offensive to Murrow, who worked in the tradition of the great networks which holds that no sponsor, no individual, can turn the news to his own advantage.  (214-15)

As it turned out, in the age of numerous "news" networks (whose daily ration of meaningful news could probably fit on one side of a single sheet of notebook paper), with the network news operations mostly moribund, and with broadcast journalism having gone from "here's the stuff you need to know about what's going on" to "scandal/moral outrage/missing blonde of the minute," Murrow's nightmare has largely come to pass. 

(The worst part?  Nowhere in the modern media landscape do I see a present-day Elmer Davis to counteract the trend.)

 

Whoops

If there's one thing I love more than discovering new (to me, anyway) footage, it's finding instances when things didn't go exactly right on live television.  The most famous, of course, is this refrigerator ad.  But here's another instance of another door-related malfunction on live television.  I can completely see this kind of thing happening on my watch, too....

Good job, Internet

A little over twenty years ago, my parents gave me for Christmas a massive biography of longtime CBS chief William Paley.  Among its many details was a glimpse into how Paley sought a sleek, modern design for his network during the 1930s, employing William Lescaze to help develop this look for the network's buildings and public identity.  The endnotes -- which are among my favorite parts of any book -- cited an article about Lescaze's CBS work that ran in a journal I'd never heard of.  I searched high and low for that journal, but could never find it.  It was not carried by any library around me, and I figured it was something that would forever be in some black hole somewhere.

On Wednesday morning I was doing my usual before-work Internet stuff, and one link led to another link, and before long Lescaze was on my mind again because of a reference I'd read.  Just for giggles, I typed "William Lescaze" and "CBS" into a Google search. You'll never guess what one of the first links in the result was: a link to an abstract of that article, via Syracuse University's library.  That shiny "download" button up at the top alternately tantalized and terrified, for I'm accustomed to such buttons leading to links for you to purchase the article, and I know that scholarly journals don't sell copies of their articles cheaply.  But, hey, the temptation was too great. 

One click and a few seconds later, there was the whole article, illustrations and everything, and twenty and a half years of searching was over.  (And the article was as interesting as I hoped it would be, too.)

Thank you, Syracuse.

Crowning website of awesome

While today I'm once again busy with the agonies of preregistration, amuse yourself at this website, which is completely made of awesome.  It includes this page, which is a layer of awesome on top of awesome. I've had some of these bits of music for years, but never in so high a quality.  Go there now and fill up your hard drive, and thank me later.